Funny Girl

CHAPTER 9

It was cold. Almost 9pm. Harry had left his coat at Grace's, and he wasn't about to go back there. He rubbed his hands together before shoving them into the pockets of his dark gray corduroys. It was eerily quiet out; almost everyone in New York City was currently digesting their turkey dinners and spending time with their families in their homes. Loneliness clutched at him, clawed at his insides. He missed his mother. He missed how she would spend all morning baking pies and tear the kitchen into shreds; flour everywhere, sugar on the floor. She didn't care. She loved baking those pies so much, and she let Harry and Grace help whenever they wanted. She would bake them each special little pies with all the dough scraps – Grace's had strawberry preserves, and Harry's had blueberry jam – and she would give them the pies before the guests arrived. "Now don't you tell anyone that your mother lets you eat dessert first! That's a secret, okay?" And they would swear never to tell before devouring their treats. Harry's eyes were full of tears. He wiped a cold hand over his face. He knew that Grace was just trying to grab at anything to keep those memories going, but at what point would she realize that this thing she was trying to recreate – the pieces weren't there anymore. It would never look the same.

Harry ducked into a convenience store to warm up momentarily, and pulled out his phone. He had saved a number in there weeks ago. He had dialed it quite a few times since, but had never pressed send. He had nothing to lose now.

##

Evie was a little drunk. It was to be expected after a six hour Thanksgiving feast with her friends. She was home now, sprawled out on her couch flipping through channels. She had changed into a pair of black yoga pants and soft gray night shirt, but still had her makeup on and silver hoops in her ears. A pint of Cherry Garcia with a spoon stuck it was creating a condensation ring on her coffee table.

Her phone rang.

She grabbed it and looked at the number; local, but not familiar. She pressed the talk button and put it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Hi... Evie? It's um, it's Harry."

"Harry." Her voice deadpanned and she stared up at the ceiling for a moment. A joke? Prank call? Whatever it was, she was at the disadvantage because her heart was almost jumping into her throat with every beat.

"Harry Conlan."

"Right. Hi, Harry."

"Hi."

"Greetings."

Silence.

Evie sat up, putting the TV on mute. "Shouldn't you be at some swanky Thanksgiving celebration?"

"Shouldn't you?"

"I was. You realize it's 9pm, right? Why are you calling me?"

There was an audible sigh on the other end of the phone. "Look, you have every right to be irritated, I just wanted to say... I wanted to say I'm sorry. For not saying goodbye in Ohio."

"Why didn't you?" Evie had been hurt by that. More deeply than she was willing to admit to herself.

"I don't know... it's complicated. But I'm sorry. It was rude of me. I'm sorry."

"I got it, Harry. It's fine."

"Okay. Thanks."

Evie waited, wondering what was really going on. She had a hard time believing that he'd only called to apologize. She didn't know him at all, but he sounded much less 'full of it' than he had during previous interactions. He sounded tired and sad.